


give me five minutes more (only five minutes more)

by cailures



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, Period-Typical Sexism, Trapped in the Closet, dismal desmond was actually a thing, sorry for the fade to black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4631742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cailures/pseuds/cailures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right after the events of the first season, Peggy and Angie go on a secret mission together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give me five minutes more (only five minutes more)

**Author's Note:**

> For #2.

“Y’know, English, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had done this before.” 

Peggy smiled at that, one of those little Mona Lisa smiles that stayed with Angie longer than they should. Rather than toss the bent bobby pin, she slipped it into her pocket and held the door open for Angie to pass through.

Maybe it was the events of the past few days or maybe it was all the Moscow Mules they had knocked back before setting out on their mission but her answer was more forthright than Angie had expected. “Thankfully it wasn’t a Yale lock. I never did like those.” 

As Angie slipped past her, she noticed that Peggy had taken out a handkerchief to open the door. Maybe it was nothing or maybe it was the vodka clouding her mind but she couldn’t tell why she found that curious, just that she did. 

“The ol’ battle-axe is asleep,” Angie whispered, turning around as she did and getting a faceful of hair when Peggy backed into her. Naturally, it smelled as perfect as it looked, like Shalimar but lighter. Swallowing a sigh, she promised herself that she’d buy some _real_ perfume when she landed her first real acting gig. 

“Sorry. So sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

Angie waved it off. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one half in the bag here.”

Close enough to her that Angie found herself toying with the idea of just leaning back into her arms, Peggy gave another mysterious half-smile.

“If the girls of Tarrytown could see me now,” Angie said, feeling flush and jittery all at once. Waving at Peggy behind her, she added, “Stay behind me.”

Peggy complied, close on her heels as they crept down the hall. After a moment she asked, “The Eastern Aircraft Company?”

A quick nod and Angie raised her right arm with her hand already balled into a fist, shooting Peggy a look over her shoulder as she did. “We can do it.”

Especially if that meant drinking and dancing until late in the evening. Tarrytown had seemed like another world when she had arrived but lately Angie found herself missing it more and more. It wasn’t so much the work - the men could have that - it was everything else that had come with it. The responsibility and the freedom were something she hadn’t imagined existed. Sure there were rich girls who went away to college just like there were lucky girls who graced the silver screen but for Angie the future had seemed defined. Like her mother and aunts and cousins before her, Angie was to finish high school, find a nice boy, get married, and settle down. It was that or the convent and she knew it was never going to be the convent for her. 

“Sarah said Fry didn’t do anything to your room yet. The locks are still the same and nothing’s been moved.” Angie would have done this alone but after calling her mother and her Cousin Betty, her third call had been to Miriam Fry to tell her she would no longer need her room at the Griffith. Fry would want to be there when she moved out as she always liked to be certain none of the girls ran off with the silverware.

“Sarah?” Peggy whispered, her footsteps pausing for a moment. “ _Sarah_ , Sarah?”

“Look, I know I said she’s a slut, and she is, but knows this place better than even Fry.” She had to as she’d had three guys in her room so far and hadn’t been caught. Miriam was also the only other woman in the Griffith that Sarah was friendly with, besides Angie. That meant Sarah knew Fry’s sleeping patterns, what pills she took, and even when she did her ‘random’ room checks. 

“I didn’t know you talked.”

“Only when necessary.” All things being square, Sarah wouldn’t be so bad of a neighbor if she weren’t Angie’s _next-door_ neighbor. Other girls worried about her stealing their boyfriends, Angie worried about having to spend another sleepless night listening to her entertain her guests. 

Another warm flush came over her at the memory, settling between her legs, and Angie found herself leaning on the wall for support as much as coverage. She was sure she used to be better at handling her liquor. Peeking past the corner of the wall, she found the corridor as empty as she’d expected at half-past three. “The coast is clear.”

Peggy moved ahead and for one panicked moment Angie worried that they had forgotten how they were going to get into the room. Then Peggy pulled out a spare key and Angie made a silent vow to never drink that much vodka again. 

The key still worked. Angie followed Peggy into the room, locking the door behind them. 

“Sorry,” Angie said with the shrug as she watched Peggy scan her old room. “About the mess.”

After Fry had all but accused Peggy of running an opium den from her room, she had made it clear to all the girls that Peggy Carter was not to be allowed on their property again. And Angie had been around long enough to know what that meant. She had snuck into Peggy’s room that night and gathered up all her clothes, make-up, and any other valuables to return to her before Fry had her pick of them and tossed the rest in the trash. 

Pausing in her search to find Angie’s hand and give it a small squeeze, Peggy whispered, “Don’t worry about it.” 

And this time it was how cold she felt when Peggy moved away that had Angie wondering what had come over her. 

Searching behind the bed, Peggy made a soft sound of triumph and Angie wished they could turn on the lights so she could get a good luck at what it was that they’d come all this way to recover. With Peggy it could be anything; old love letters or rare antiques or even a gun.

A gun didn’t actually seem that strange the more she thought about it.

Peggy popped up from behind the bed, the streetlight in the window illuminating the grin on her face.

“That’s it?” 

She looked at the raggedy stuffed dog she held. “Well, yes.”

As she got closer she realized the dog wasn’t dirty, but spotted. Somehow that didn’t make her feel any better as she poked it with her index fingers. Age had made the stuffing thin and lumpy but Angie was fairly certain there were no jewels hidden inside. “Really?”

“Desmond was a gift from my gran,” Peggy explained. 

A hundred quips danced on her tongue but before Angie could speak the distinctive creak of the floorboards in the hall sent a chill down her spine. Peggy’s eyes went wide and before Angie could react, she was being pulled into the closet.

Fry - it had to be Fry as no one else would have a key - turned on the light and entered the room. 

It felt like an eternity but it couldn’t have been more than five minutes that they stood there, the smell of mothballs hanging in the air, Desmond pressed between them and Peggy’s breath soft against Angie’s neck as they waited. Even in the darkness of the closet, she could still make out Peggy’s bright eyes and perfect red lips. Her mouth suddenly dry, she licked her lips and wondered why she could never get her lipstick to look that good.

Peggy glanced over at her and it was terrifying because Angie knew what was going to happen and worse, she wanted it to happen. Heaven help her, she wanted this.

It was awkward at first, trying to move but not move too much. Angie was reminded of those first dances back in Tarrytown. No men around, she and the other girls made a mess of twirls and dips as they both tried to follow then lead. There was no script to follow here but sinking into Peggy’s kiss, she found herself guided by something like instinct. With one shaking hand on Peggy’s shoulder, Angie thought about pushing away. She should push away. But the thought died as soon as it was born, evaporating against the warmth of Peggy’s skin and the softness of her hair as it brushed over Angie’s fingers.

Peggy pulled away first and Angie found herself holding her breath, waiting for her to speak.

“We can take the fire escape.”

Angie nodded, the words sinking in slowly. “Not yet.”  
“Not yet?” Angie couldn’t exactly see the expression on Peggy’s face but she knew her well enough that she could imagine.

“Fry’s going to do her rounds outside too.”

And maybe it was her imagine but Angie would swear that Peggy’s voice sounded just a little high and uncertain as she whispered, “We could wait five minutes.”

“Yeah,” Angie breathed. Jarvis would keep the car running. “Just five minutes more.”

The End.


End file.
